Leftovers

Your words are all

I have left of you.

I wish we had written

the stories and sonatas

we had dreamed of

so I would have more

of the person I knew so well.

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To certain someones

You said I had beauty

in me

but you

couldn’t recognize

the beauty of me.

They say

only one

kind of beauty matters,

the beauty found within,

but I’m not sure

that’s true.

Even the holiest of holies

must have

a home

and what is more holy

than a heart and soul?

I say, next time,

don’t give me a half-compliment.

Love the full me

or get out of my sanctuary.

I hadn’t written a rage at my exes poem in a while.

 

Sunday reading reflection #4

So we haven’t done one of these in ages. The readings for this Sunday (read them here) were especially poignant considering all the terrible things going on here in the United States concerning race, racial ideologies, and hatred. The pastor of my parish preached a fantastic homily about how hatred and pre-judgement of any kind alienates us from God’s kingdom because anything that comes from God does not divide, but unites.

One line that particularly struck me from the second reading is “For the gifts and call of God are irrevocable.” There’s just something that’s so beautiful and yet terrifying about the gifts and call of God being irrevocable. Terrifying in that at times it feels like we can’t live out God’s call or are afraid to use the gifts he’s given us. But so beautiful in that despite all our fears, reluctance, and stubbornness, he isn’t going to take them back. And he isn’t going to leave us when we don’t follow his call how he might want us to, or if we stray a little too far, “…for he has said ‘I will never forsake you or abandon you.”  (Hebrews 13:5)

His call and his gifts are for all. No qualifications or even willingness needed. His arms and his heart are always open, we need only reach out. And that is so important to remember, especially in such troubled times.

I hope the skies are sunny where ever you are today. God bless.

An apology/Loneliness and Sociability

Hi there. I’m incredibly sorry that I missed an entire week of poetry blogging. But life, as it usually does, got in the way. My mother had to go to the hospital (she’s home and well now, thank goodness). I’ve also been preparing for my first attempt at National Novel Writing Month (more on that to come) and have been working on different pieces for the websites I write for. In addition to all of that, I just have been exhausted and not wanting to do much of anything. The last one is a paltry excuse, I know, but sometimes you just need a break. Anywho, I’m back now and I will be posting more poetry in November to make up for the lost time. Without any further ado, here’s today’s poem, “Loneliness and Sociability.”

Loneliness is an old man,

craggy faced and frowning,

wistfulness always in his eyes.

He haunts in corners,

and stalks the alleyways,

watching the cats scrounge for scraps

in the light of the October half moon.

He thrives on paths untrod,

seeking nooks never found in which to hide

until it is time to move again.

Sociability is a bright, young thing,

her smile dazzling even the stars,

her laughter enchanting all.

Once you are in her presence, you

are hooked, unable to be left.

You and she hit the clubs,

dancing to the music in a swirl of gossip, smiles

and vibrantly colored skirts.

One day, on a park bench off the beaten track,

while Sociability was tying on her dancing shoes,

Loneliness walked by, gazed at her sweet form

and observed her vivaciousness.

Hesitating, he perched next to her on the bench,

barely looking her in the eye

as he made the request that had long lived in his heart:

“Let’s coexist.”

 

Here’s a quick story about this poem. I briefly belonged to a writing group in college and this was the only poem I ever brought in to be workshopped. The people in that group, especially the leader, were notoriously picky and this was the only time I ever heard him say that something didn’t need to be completely overhauled in order to be made better. I still am ridiculously proud of this poem as a result of that. I hope you’re all doing well and that you’ve enjoyed reading! Bye!

Opposing pages

I drew us on opposing pages

so our lips would finally touch

and our hair would mingle together

though I never intended it as such.

Here in this sketchbook,

among portraits of people from my brain,

we are together but different

my then dearest wish made plain.

I knew your face so well

yet here’s where art and life sever.

I drew us on opposing pages so, even now,

I could look at you forever.